


Merry Christmas, Sammy

by ikeptyourtrenchcoatbro



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 07:25:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikeptyourtrenchcoatbro/pseuds/ikeptyourtrenchcoatbro
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Citizen Fang. Castiel sends Dean on a hunt for demons but what he really finds can never be killed. Look, I'm trying not to give anything away here and I'm bad at summaries. There is sex at the end. You're welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas, Sammy

“Stupid fucking angel,” Dean muttered to himself as he scanned the signs before they whizzed past him on the near empty highway. He was so intent on finding the location Castiel gave him that only the sound of the Impala’s wiper blades slicing through fluffy whiteness filled the car.

“I really wish you wouldn’t curse.”

Dean swerved slightly and smacked his hand off the wheel as the angel materialized. “You’d think after years of you popping in like this I’d be prepared. Not the case.”

“Sam suggested a bell.”

“You’ve seen Sam?”

“Yes.” Castiel opened the glove box and began to rummage through it. “He informed me that you had sent him a false emergency text from his former lover Amelia. He also told me that you suggested the vampire was more of a brother to you than Sam ever has been.” The angel stopped his foraging and turned towards Dean. “Why do you say such untrue things?”

“Sammy’s cute when he’s pissed,” Dean shrugged. He chuckled at the shake of Castiel’s head.

“And that…that sarcastic façade that you throw up…”

“I’ve watched humans for thousands of years…yadda, yadda, yadda,”Dean mocked. “Where the hell is this place with the demon activity you were yaking about?”

“The driveway to ‘the place’ is approximately 100 feet ahead on your left.” Castiel offered before disappearing from the car.

One hundred feet ahead (“Eat your heart out TomTom.”) Dean turned onto a gravel driveway that lead through a patch of land densely populated by trees. The tires protested the slight incline towards the middle, spinning in place before righting themselves. Nautical twilight while driving through Des Moines was bearable with regular lights; Dean had his high beams on and it was still difficult to navigate through the snow and darkness enveloping the road here in Bumfuck, Iowa. Through a clearing he spotted a faint glow in the distance. Inching his way ahead, he came upon a small log cabin with a snow covered vehicle parked in front. He saw movement in the foggy window and reached for Ruby’s knife, slung his duffel over his shoulder and grabbed the knife he’d crafted in Purgatory for good measure. He crouched low, so low that the snow skimmed his knees as he noiselessly made his way onto the wooden porch. Slowly he turned the cold brass knob until…

“What the fuck?” Dean shouted as he tumbled in. Apparently whomever was on the other side of the door heard the Impala’s arrival. He didn’t have long to ponder that as he was pinned to the floor by force of what could only be described as a giant and water was poured in his face.

“What the fuck?!” he repeated, waving the knife through bleary vision.

“Dean?”

Dean stopped. “Sam?”

The crushing weight was relieved from his lower half as he blinked what he suspected was holy water from his eyes. Sam offered his hand even though the two were technically still not speaking and Dean allowed his brother to pull him up. He put his duffel and weapons down on the table in front of him and looked around. A few feet to his left, a tiny kitchenette with ancient appliances. Sam’s laptop sat perched on the edge of the table he’d placed his belongings on, opened to the local weather. Towards the center of the small room an overstuffed rust red leather couch complete with tartan throw pillows and tartan blanket draped over the back. A fire roared in the stone fireplace in front of the couch. Tucked in the right corner of the room, a medium sized fir tree adorned with the usual Christmas baubles glittered as the flames licked the shiny surfaces. Two doors opened on the left of the room revealing a bathroom and bedroom with a single king sized bed.

“What the hell are you doing here Dean?” Sam queried as Dean came from the bathroom.

“Cas told me there was demon business going down here. Apparently the feathery prick is fucking with us. Christmas tree’s a nice touch.” Dean shed his hat and shrugged off his leather coat. He plopped down on the couch, tossed one of the pillows to the floor.

“I put the tree up.”

Dean noticed a newspaper unfolded on the oak end table alongside the couch, a mug of steaming something resting on top. Sam wasn’t there to thwart demon activity; he was living here.

“This where you’ve been staying?”

Sam nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Amelia’s husband’s hunting cabin. Pretty stupid to run to a place where the person you’re running from can easily find you. Can’t say it’s one of my better ideas.” He sat down next to Dean.

“Thought they lived in Texas.”

“They do. He’s originally from here.”

Dean nodded and drummed his fingers on his knees.

The room was silent save for the wind whistling through the hairline cracks in the chinking of the building for a solid five minutes before “You know I expected you to be messed up after you got out of Purgatory but I never expected you to do this to me.”

Dean rolled his eyes and stalked over to the refrigerator. “You got any beer? I feel like I’m going to need a drink during this.”

“I told Cas you’d be like this…”

Dean slammed the refrigerator door. “You and Cas have been talking? Oh this is great. Sam, you have no fucking idea what Purgatory was like, what it does to you, okay?”

“Because you won’t talk to me!” Sam was standing now,

 Benny pulled me and Cas out of many fucked up situations and I owe the guy for it,” Dean continued. “Soon as you meet him, you want to kill him.”

“He’s a vampire!”

Dean huffed and slipped Ruby’s knife in his belt, gathered him his duffel from the table. “No point in trying to explain myself to you.”

He grabbed his coat and hat from the couch, put them back on and threw the door open. Wind swirled snow into the door. With the amount of snow that had fallen in the brief measure of time he’d been at the cabin it’d take him a good hour to dig Baby out and even then there was no way he was making it down the driveway. He was stuck.

The couch wasn’t as comfortable to sleep on as it was to sit on so Dean was awake and pacing the floor at midnight. He and Sam had eaten dinner in total silence. After that they ignored each other to surf the web and drink copious amounts of whisky respectively. Sam had gone into the bedroom around ten, left the door cracked. As much an invitation as Dean needed to get the hell off of the cramped couch. He pushed the door open as quietly as he could manage, no small feat considering the hinges in the door were antique and obviously never oiled. A step on a particularly creaky floorboard had Sam shoot straight up in bed, reach for his gun and the light simultaneously. His face went from determined to depressed in under thirty seconds and he placed his gun back on the nightstand.

Dean stood sheepishly in the doorway, much like Sam used to do when he had nightmares as a child and wanted to get in bed with his big brother to feel safe. “Couch is killing my neck.” He rubbed at it for emphasis.

Sam sighed and made room on the bed. Dean quirked his lips on one side and padded across the cold wooden floor. He sat on the bed and before he could swing his legs up, Sam’s huge, warm hands were kneading his neck. If it were earlier in the night he might’ve thought Sam was trying to choke him.

“I found that out the hard way myself.” Sam got onto his knees behind Dean, a position to give him better access.

He was surprised to find that Dean actually wasn’t lying; there was a tremendous amount of knotting in the muscles that connected neck to back. He tapped Dean’s shoulder, motioned for him to take off the thin white tee he was wearing. Dean complied, melted into Sam’s touch as he worked the kinks out of each shoulder, his breath ghosting over Dean’s skin in the process. As he worked his hands down over Dean’s shoulder blades, he leaned in, whispered “I looked for you.”

Dean startled at this, turned his neck to look around at his brother. “What’d you say?”

Sam sat back against the headboard. Dean mirrored his actions. “I said I looked for you. When you were in Purgatory.  I interrogated demons. I prayed to angels. Nobody knew anything of course. But I did it, Dean. I did it for days on end without sleep for about two months until I decided that if I couldn’t find you you had to be dead and I had to join you. Shared Heaven after all. So I took the Impala for a drive on the windiest road in Kermit. I was just ready to ride off the cliff when the dog ran out in front of me. I hurried him to the nearest emergency vet, and the doctor there was such a bitch. It was Amelia. And then she turned up at the hotel I was living at. Well, I was working there too. Handyman.” He stopped and smiled. “We swapped stories, she lost her husband in Afghanistan, I lost you…things just kind of progressed after that. We ended up moving in together. I even met her dad. She gets the call that her husband is still alive. I ran. Went off the grid. And then I go to Rufus’ cabin and you were there and you were you but you were different too. We’ve always kept things from each other but something was gnawing away at you. Guilt. Guilt about Cas…”

“Guilt about not getting back to you faster,” Dean added, crossing his arms over his chest. “I figured you’d have given up hunting. You were due to go through that phase again.”

“I didn’t have anyone left, Dean. Mom’s gone. Jess is gone. Dad’s gone. Bobby’s gone. You were gone. Cas was gone. Why the hell bother going on?”

“Saving people, hunting things…”

“Easier to fight when you still have something to live for.”

“I’m your something?” Dean smirked. “You really did…”

Sam stole the words from his mouth with a clumsy, lopsided kiss where he got more chin than mouth. He righted himself after a step, maneuvered so that he could seamlessly straddle Dean’s lap. Dean’s brain apparently caught up with the proceedings because as the tip of Sam’s tongue slid across his bottom lip he grabbed the backs of Sam’s thighs and flipped him onto his back. He hitched Sam’s shirt up to one side, pulled the waistband of his pants down to reveal a strip of tanned skin to a contrasting pale bit of hip. Maintaining eye contact he bent down and dragged his tongue across the protrusion of hipbone. Sam’s eyes clamped shut as a moan worked its way from his throat.

“Always were the eager one,” Dean smirked against his skin, rubbed his cheek where his tongue had been. “Been a long time too.”

Between dodging death and Hell visits; demonic and angel interference; a Sam sans soul, they hadn’t tried being together this way for the greater part of their adult lives. It was easier to steal kisses and hurried hand jobs as teenagers when John wasn’t around, which was most of the time. They were making their way to penetration when Sam sprung Stanford on him. He thought of making his move after Jessica died but that would be in poor taste. It was all downhill after that.

“Too long.” Sam echoed as he managed to pull his shirt off while still lying on the bed.

“Sammy I…”

“I know, Dean. I know. And I know that we have so much more to say to each other but it’s Christmas and I want my present.” Dean chuckled. “And shut up, I know it’s corny.”

Dean shook his head, pulled himself up to straddle Sam’s plaid covered cock. He nosed at Sam’s neck. “Not corny. Cute.”

“You gonna kiss me or what?”

“Patience, sweetheart. Patience.”

Dean spent the better part of a half an hour simply grazing his lips over every bit of Sam that was exposed. His stubble brought a pink hue over the flesh, his breath drew moans as he passed over a nipple. He made sure no part of his body was in contact with Sam’s straining cock as he finally leant down to lick his way into Sam’s watering mouth. The taste of him overwhelmed Dean and he stifled a whine as Sam gave as good as he was given. He’d learned from the best after all.

“I love you, Dean.” Sam panted into the junction of Dean’s shoulder and neck, his hands sneaking beneath pants and boxers to grab at the globes of Dean’s ass.

“Love you too, Sammy. More than I ever tell you.”

His hands worked the elastic of Sam’s sweats and boxers down over his hips, his cock springing up towards his belly, precome trickling over the purplish head. He managed to get rid of his own pants and boxers as well, standing on one leg to kick them off. Sam looked down at him and laughed as his equally hard cock jumped from the movement.

“Why don’t you make yourself more comfortable while I go get the lube?” Dean whispered, leaning down to skate his tongue over the underside of Sam’s cock. “Much bigger than I remember.” Sam bucked his hips. “Mmm…taste so good, Sammy.” As Dean pulled away, Sam sat upright, pulled Dean onto his lap.

“Don’t want you to go anywhere now that I have you.” He licked at a new scar marring the pale skin of Dean’s chest. “Puragtory?” he asked, looking up to meet Dean’s eyes.

Dean nodded. “Couldn’t tell you what. Vamp, shifter, wraith maybe. Probably Leviathan though. They were all over us like white on rice as soon as they got a whiff of Cas.” He sighed. “Don’t want to talk about Purgatory right now. But I will. I’ll tell you what I can remember even if it takes the rest of my life to get it out. You need to know.” He dropped a kiss to Sam’s forehead as he stood to retrieve the lube.

The fire in the cabin was starting to die down so while he was in the room he added a few more logs. And since he was there he took a swig from the bottle of Jack atop the end table. And really he should check the conditions outside while he was at it. No point to that last idea. It was pitch black. For peace of mind, he prayed to Castiel, told him to turn off the Winchester station on Angel Radio (Angel TV as well if that existed) and that he should pop in sometime during the day so he could kick his ass and thank him at the same time.

When he came back into the room, Sam now laid back on the pillows, his hand lazily stroking his cock.

“Should’ve grabbed my phone. This would make a great wallpaper.” He tossed the lube to Sam and dropped to his knees at the foot of the bed, placed a kiss to each of Sam’s ankles. Gave the same treatment to each knee. Sam stopped stroking as Dean began to lick and suck at the inside of his right thigh.

“While you were gone,” Sam whispered as Dean repeated the same to his left thigh. “Got myself ready for you.” Dean looked up at him. Sam smirked and nodded slowly. “Couldn’t figure out a good angle for video so I sent you audio.”

“How did I not hear that?

Sam shrugged. “Don’t know. Heard you praying to Castiel. You really think he’d watch us?”

“I wouldn’t put it past him. And I can’t really blame the guy if he did. We’re fucking hot.”

Sam sniggered as Dean crawled up to straddle him. Sam’s hands circled the small of his back as they kissed honey slow. Dean rutted his cock against Sam’s, moaned into his mouth as a large slicked hand gripped them both.

“Not gonna last if you do that. Not as young as I used to be.”

“You’re not old, Dean.”

“I know,” Dean panted. “Just not as young as I was the last time we ever did this. Recovery time isn’t the same.”

“That’s with women. Do I need to remind you how hot you get for me?” Sam asked, flicking his thumb under the slit.

Dean shuddered at Sam’s bravado. All the times when they were teenagers Sam played the blushing virgin and now that he was asserting himself, Dean almost blew his load right there. Instead he reached down and loosened Sam’s grip, guided his cock down so that it pressed against Sam’s quivering hole.  Sam’s nails bit into the flesh of his back as Dean enter him in one quick motion. Dean waited for Sam’s body to become accustomed to the stretch around him, peppered his shoulders and chest with kisses. He bit down on a nipple when he pulled out and entered again. Mixed pain and pleasure until only pleasure remained. Their bodies glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. Hearts beat as one with the eternal song of their undying love for one another. Mouths curled around words. _Yes. More. Dean. Please._ Locked in coital embrace, eyes never wavering from one another even as Dean pulsed into Sam and Sam onto their collective stomachs. Dean’s hand reaching for his as he crept into the bathroom for a wet towel. Sam’s face tucked into his neck even though he was bigger and didn’t need shielding from bad dreams any longer. This was how they belonged. Not fighting against each other. Not running off the second things became too much to handle. Together. Dean and Sam against the world. The way it started the moment John handed baby Sam off to him. “Take care of your brother, Dean.” Sure they’d both fucked up more times than they could count on fingers and toes borrowed from scores of other people, hurt each other in ways normal human beings couldn’t even fathom. At the end of the day, they loved each other. And Dean made a personal resolution in the moment he felt the gentle rise and fall of Sam’s chest pressed against his back that he wasn’t going to give this up ever again.

“Merry Christmas, Sammy,” he whispered against his temple as he closed his eyes and joined his brother in the land of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing Wincest. Happy Holidays!


End file.
